Page 11 of The Billionaire's Vow

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to hang up.

She wanted, for once in her damn life, to not be the person forced to fix everything.

But she already knew how this would play out.

Because this was her mother.

And because this was what she did.

Giselle sighed, long and slow, already running the numbers.She had some extra cash, sure.Not a lot, but enough to make it work.

Except she had planned to use it for herself this time.

For once.

Her clothes were a mess.She knew it.The thrift-store pieces were ill-fitting, the fabrics too stiff, and the colors usually left her complexion sallow or too pale.She had meant to carve out a bit of her hard-earned money to buy something decent.Something that actually fit her properly.Something that didn’t make her look like she was trying to disappear into the background.

Her thoughts flickered back to him.

Dimitri De Luca.

Yeah, she’d caught the way his gaze had flicked over her outfit—how his lips had pressed into that almost-imperceptible line, how his eyes had narrowed for a brief moment.

He had definitely noticed.

And she hated that it made her stomach twist with embarrassment.

Maybe if she invested in a few nicer pieces—sleek skirts that actually fit, crisp blouses that weren’t two sizes too big—maybe he would take her more seriously.Maybe everyone would.

But of course, her mother had called, and whatever plans she’d had for herself were circling the drain.Again.

"Just wait until you see the Christmas decorations I got today!"Diane’s voice was bright with excitement."They’re going to completely transform the house for the holidays.Everything is going to look amazing.Just you wait!"

Giselle gritted her teeth.

Christmas.

It was August.

Her mother was already buying things at full price instead of waiting for sales, instead of pulling from the literal mountain of Christmas bins cluttering their basement.

"Mom, why did you need new decorations?"she asked, irritation sharpening her tone before she could soften it.

There was a pause.

Giselle glanced down at her own outfit, at the drab skirt she’d thrown on earlier without thinking.Then her thoughts flickered to the one indulgence she’d allowed herself—the lace thigh-high stockings she’d splurged on last week.

They were completely unnecessary.But they made her feel good.Feminine.Sexy.

Just like how her mother’s Christmas obsession made her feel good.

The thought sent an icy chill of horror down her spine.

No.No, no, no.

She was not like her mother.